


love me dead

by rosielibrary



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Murder, Oh and Also, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, it'll make sense later i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosielibrary/pseuds/rosielibrary
Summary: You wanted to shake it away but it’s stubborn, the feeling making the hairs on your arms raise and your legs squirm. You didn’t want to feel it, but Bill did, so you did, too.And you liked it, after a while.(word of warning: this fic is from 2015 and unedited!)(these are four separate fics that take place in the same universe, so they're all in one thing to make it easier!)





	1. Chapter 1

Demons. You’d never have expected demons to be showing up in your dreams, of all things.

Your nap was rather rudely interrupted by someone’s high-pitched cackling, which gradually grew louder and louder, until a triangular rip appeared in the blue sky of your dream. Followed with an eyeball, arms, legs, and a top hat, a small pop resonated through the space when the triangle was fully… Formed?

The Illuminati was your first thought. The triangle said not to be stupid.

His name was Bill Cipher, and he’d been watching you.

You’d had your fair share of weirdness during your stay in Gravity Falls; a giant hand stole your car, once. You’d seen gnomes disappear behind bushes and away from your grasp, and you could swear on somebody’s grave that you saw a mermaid in the public pool.

But nobody ever believed you. People had made fun of you for years for it, telling everyone you’re that weird person who sees things, that creepy one who hears voices and believes in the occult. Teachers had stopped sending your parents pamphlets about hospitals after a while, when you stopped telling people about what you’d seen.

You’d never forgiven, and you’d never forgotten.

And now, you were remembering all this as a small yellow triangle recounted it to you. Your nails bit into the skin of your fists as Bill Cipher offered you a proposition.

You needed confirmation that you weren’t losing your marbles, he needed something in return. Asking what he wanted was interrupted with his answer, like he’d known exactly what you were going to say.

A body. He needed a human body so he could exist in real life, not just in peoples’ dreams. You were obviously confused, so he snapped his fingers and a black outline of a body appeared, clothes curling around its limbs.

His apparent human body was tall, blonde, and spindly, with dark skin and almond-shaped eyes, both of which were closed. Adorned with a black shirt and pants, a black bow tie at his neck embroidered with black and white eyes, he looked the part, alright, with a canary yellow suit coat sitting on his shoulders and a black top hat atop his head. The demon twirled the seemingly dead form around, asking if you liked what you saw– you had to admit, it was rather impressive. And you needed your end of the bargain fulfilled, too.

So you agreed to the deal, shaking his hand, watching yours get engulfed in blue flames. A beat passes, your hand seared with pain, but you couldn’t yank it away from Bill’s grasp. Blood dripped from your palm and against his, but it seemed to be what he needed, as your dream was cut off by your shout when you awakened, and you sat up, examining your hand.

An oval-shaped eyeball was crudely carved into the skin, and you realized with a jolt that there was someone standing at the foot of your bed. They’re stretching, arms above their head, and you heard every joint in their spine pop at once, like some gross xylophone.

“… Bill?”

“The one and only, kid!” You flipped the switch on your bedside table and sure enough, human Bill was standing there, looking marvelously out of place in his smart outfit. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, the clock at your side telling you that you’d overslept your “quick nap” by several hours.

“Whaddya think? Ain’t it somethin’?” Bill went to twirl around, but he stumbled, obviously still uneasy on his feet. “Two legs, two legs. Feels weird! I’m likin’ the threads, though. Very swanky! Last body I had was covered in mosquito bites. Not fun.”

Puzzled is an understatement. Bill practiced walking around, getting used to the stride of his long legs and he stopped in front of the full-length mirror in your room, tugging at his bow tie.

“I’m likin’ it, I’m likin’ it,” he said to himself, jumping and crossing his feet, twirling around on his toes. “Opinions, toots?”

“Don’t call me ‘toots’,” you muttered, getting out of bed and standing at his side. “But I have to say, it’s good.”

His toothy smile was bright against his skin, and his eye– one blacked out, the other a bright yellow– glinted in the dim light of your room.

“Ah, now don’t go gettin’ too fond! I’m not forgettin’ your end of the deal,” he added, his tongue darting over his teeth. “You’ve given me what I want, now I’ll help you out.”

You nodded, and his angular features twitched into a devilish smirk.

“So you know, since our blood’s all mashed up in this meatsack ‘o mine, I can, uh, what’s the word— Feel what you’re feelin’. Another side effect of our little handshake back there in your dream, so now I can see into your head and stuff! Ain’t that fun?”

Well, to be honest, not exactly. You’d have to be careful with your thoughts from now on, but you can’t resist giving him a quick once over as he walks out of your bedroom.

“Quit checkin’ me out, would'ya? I can read your thoughts, remember?”

“I know,” you replied, and the speed caught him off guard, stopping him at the doorframe.

“You’ve got moxie, kid. I like it.” With a flick of his coattails he was out the door, and you heard a loud thump in place of him going down the stairs. He must’ve figured falling was more fun.

He disappeared for the night and you fell back asleep again, but this dream was nothing like the last one. You’re walking down a sidewalk path, your pulse in your ears, and for some reason it feels unfamiliar to you, like you weren’t quite… All human.

Your feet took you to someone’s house, where a window was open on the second floor, obnoxiously loud rock and roll music blasting from the room inside. Instead of knocking on the door like any regular person, you poofed away and reappeared inside the room, and a quiet laugh that certainly isn’t yours pulls you from the lull of “it’s just a dream”.

It’s Bill. He was at Jeff Hamilton’s house, you soon saw from the obnoxiously buff teenage boy sat at his desk, asleep on top of the laptop’s keys.

“How he can sleep through this garbage is unbelievable.” Bill’s voice echoed through the dream, and he seemed to pause for a moment, and you’re lost in a memory; a memory of having milk poured on your head and your lunch tray following it, the words “freak” and “psycho” getting thrown at your back like knives.

Speaking of knives, Bill had one. One of your kitchen knives, you discover, the silver shining against Bill’s dark hands.

His knuckles paled against the handle when the memory is replayed in your head, and you remembered that he could feel your emotions on reminiscing: your embarrassment, your upset, but mostly, your anger, your resentment.

The bloodthirsty revenge, however, was his and yours combined.

You jolted yourself awake before you see him bury the knife in the back of Jeff Hamilton’s neck, but he only lived down the road. The scream reverberated against your eardrums and you shivered, pulling the covers up around your shoulders.

Two hours passed. You didn’t go back to bed. But the feeling of horror on seeing Bill murder Hamilton like that faded, and it’s replaced with some sort of… Content. Almost euphoria. You wanted to shake it away but it’s stubborn, the feeling making the hairs on your arms raise and your legs squirm. You didn’t want to feel it, but Bill did, so you did, too.

And you liked it, after a while.

Bill reappeared in your bedroom with the knife between his teeth, blood shining against his skin in the moonlight. The yellow iris of his eye had flooded red, but when he turned to face you, he blinked it away, taking the knife from his mouth and staring at it for a moment, seemingly dazzled by the filthy blade. He squints at it before experimentally dragging his tongue along it, licking it clean.

You’re disgusted, at first. But he wasn’t, and his… Excitement takes over your own consciousness, a grin tugging at your lips.

“That’s them taken care of, doll.” He threw the knife across the room, and it cracked into the wall with a thwack. “Anythin’ else need doin’?”

Well, then… You had some idea. And since you knew he could read exactly what you were thinking, he did too.

You stood up slowly, met him at the door and clicked it shut quietly. His hands were bloodstained, but they still grabbed your hips and pushed you against the wall, nails biting into your skin above your shorts.

“I dunno what’s goin’ on,” he said under his breath, “But I like it. Humans are weird, kid.”

With that said, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head to the side, granting him more access to the side of your neck. He doesn’t tread lightly, either; his teeth dig into your throat and his canines make you suck in a breath between your teeth, keeping there won’t only be bruises, but bite marks to match. Your arms wound around his waist and pulled him closer, hands flimsily untucking his shirt to give you skin to touch. Once you got there, Bill paused, obviously unfamiliar with the feeling, but your nails raked down his back and he growled, his fingers curling farther into your hair.

“Kid,” he whispered, looking down at you. He’s only a little taller than you, but nevertheless. “Why’s the… Why’s the thing gone all hard?”

“The thing?” Oh, wait. You glanced down.

That thing.

You flushed crimson and it’s hard to tell on Bill, but he does the same, empathizing with your mortification.

“Well, uh. That’s because you can feel what I feel, right? And I’m, um– I’m aroused, so that means you are too.”

“But you don’t have one of these things, do you?” Bill’s hand felt between your legs and you squeaked at his fingertips coming so close to you, teeth catching your bottom lip.

“Um, n-no. I don’t,” you stuttered in answer, and Bill’s confusion about human bodies transferred to your head, making you giggle.

“Bill, that’s the difference between the two of us, see. You have a male’s body, so you have one of… These.”

You palmed at him through his pants and he shuddered, even if his face read as completely bewildered. The zipper’s undone on his fancy slacks and you noticed he didn’t put underwear on his “meatsack”, which caught you by surprise. He probably didn’t even know what underwear is, now that you thought about it.

“Immortal dream demon doesn’t even know what a dick is,” you muttered, chuckling. Bill was quite evidently baffled, but you felt the sudden jolt of pleasure when you ducked down and wrapped your hand around it, pumping up and down.

“Kid, I-I don’t— This feels weird, but— but good? And I’m feeling what you’re feelin’ right now, so you like iiii-oh, shit—“

You glanced up at him when you took his cock into your mouth, your tongue flicking around the tip while your hands kept moving, and his uneasy pleasure takes over your head as you continue. His shaking hands— Bill Cipher, dream demon and nightmare fuel for hundreds of his victims, nervous! The very idea made you laugh— as they fisted in your hair again, his knees weak as he tried to anchor himself. He didn’t take long, but he was unsure, and you pulled away to crane your neck to look up at him, head tilted.

“Why’d you stop?” were the first words out of his mouth, letting go of your hair to wipe the drool from his lips.

“You felt worried,” you replied, but you don’t get up.

“I’m not worried, kid, I’m Bill Cipher. Y’think I don’t know what’s goin’ on?”

“Do you?”

He was remarkably silent after that. May as well be matter of fact with him.

“You’re about to orgasm, that’s why you feel funny.” He stared down at you, brows furrowed.

“I’ve heard of, but I dunno what they feel like,” he admitted, somewhat guiltily. “Humans have ‘em, and I’m not usually stuck in this restricting flabby thing, so… You get it.”

“I get it. Now if you’ll excuse me—“ You went back to work and he moaned, pulling your hair tighter, muttering curse words under his breath until he shouts out your name in release, a hand leaving your head to steady him against the wall you were previously leaning on. You waited until he’s finished and swallowed, sliding back up the wall and smirking at him, wiping your own mouth this time.

“Yeesh now I know why humans do this all the time,” he stated, trying to get back to his “I’m better than you because I’m a demon” gimmick, but he was panting heavily, obviously still in shock at himself. “A body I possessed decades ago thought about that shit all the time, but he never actually… Hah!”

His train of thought went off the rails, but you saw a brief image of a hand with six fingers pulling at a pair of tight jeans, obviously from his head. You shook yours, adjusting your shirt and ducking under his arm, but he grabbed you to pull you back towards him.

“Was that it?”

“Well, that’s the deal, wasn’t it?” You shrugged, but he’s obviously not satisfied. He winds an arm around your waist, his lips at your ear, teeth nipping at the skin.

“If you ever wanna go for a round two, kid… Lemme know. This whole human thing may not be so bad after all.”

His confidence regained, he backed up and fixed himself in the mirror, tucking his shirt back in and adjusting his bowtie at his throat.

“Well, I’ve got places to be, people to scar for life,” he said airily, but he points at you behind his back. “But if you ever need me, put your thumb to the center of the eye on your hand, and I’ll poof up, ready for business. Got it?”

You nodded, looking down at your palm and the insignia carved into your skin. When you went to ask Bill a question, the window was open and he had disappeared, the only remainder of his presence being the billowing curtains in the wind and his laugh echoing down the street.


	2. mr. brightside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jealousy turning bills into the sea
> 
> (word of warning: this fic is from 2015 and unedited!)

It had been a month since you’d seen Bill. In the flesh, at least.

After your last encounter, he’d disappeared, and since you’d not summoned him back, he hadn’t returned. However, since the two of you were “mentally linked” or something after giving him your blood to fuel his human form, you got odd mood swings: you’d be cutting something for dinner and start wondering about what would happen if you just chopped off all your fingers. Just for fun. Once, you found yourself cackling at something on TV because he’d found something funny, but you were watching an old rerun of some cartoon show’s sad series finale.

Then there was the whole… Dream thing. You could fall asleep and “dream” of whatever he was doing at that particular moment, which didn’t work out well last time you saw him. Usually he was climbing random things and scaring people, just Bill things. But occasionally, you’d see one of his own memories: one of a little boy in a hat and falling down the stairs, stabbing his pale arms with forks, then a flash-forward to being in some sort of play with a little girl, matching set with the other kid— twins, apparently. A few times you’d seen a tall fellow with six fingers on each hand, and the memories of him flitted through blueprints, a chess set, a triangular machine with a circle in the center. Whatever that was, he was particularly upset about.

You’d gone to bed that night with the intention of seeing what he was doing, placing imaginary bets with yourself on whether he’d be stealing from kids or searching the woods for a book he’d muttered about. Once you’d fallen asleep, your dream set the scene; a house in the suburbs, obviously not anywhere near your house, but there were no screams in the background, no fires.

Bill seems to be sitting on a roof, thinking. You didn’t think dream demons could have long soliloquies under the light of the moon, but he’s muttering just out of your earshot— he knows you can hear him, so he’s conscious about his noise level.

Of course, he couldn’t escape you seeing his thoughts. An off-grey memory floods over Bill and you see yourself, eyes dark, his hands in your hair. The scene changes— you’re ducking past his eye level and you can only see the top of your head, and the sound of a zipper—

Oh god, he’s thinking about that. You can feel it, too, how he squirms about it, nails digging into his thighs.

Another memory, this time, more recent: it’s from your viewpoint, and you’re looking at the person you’ve been hanging out with recently. Sam, their name was. You’d gotten really close after everything that happened with Bill and your old bullies (old meaning that he killed them, oops), as they’d come to comfort you when you dipped out of class to calm yourself down when the teacher was talking about it. They’d become a close friend… And they’d even kissed you, despite how you rebutted it and told them you wanted to be friends. Their ignorance was obvious by their wandering eye, hands landing on your shoulder, hip, waist whenever you saw them.

Your discomfort is felt by Bill, and you see his hands, lying flat on his lap, curl into fists. You would have known what he was feeling even if you weren’t empathy links.

He’s jealous.

Sitting up in bed once you wake up, you card your hands through your hair with a sigh. Your hand sits palm up at your side, the scar of the eye staring at you.

“But if you ever need me, put your thumb to the center of the eye on your hand, and I’ll poof up, ready for business. Got it, toots?”

You got it.

Your thumb is placed atop the eyeball and you feel some sort of cold wash over you, making the hairs on your arms stand up. Surprise, curiosity, and excitement go through you all at once, and Bill’s emotions run wild through your brain until he snaps into view with a poof.

“Hey, hey, hey, if it ain’t my favorite blood-link! How’s it goin’, what’cha need?”

He’d never tell you, but you could feel that he was happy to see you.

“I was wondering how you were doing.” It’s truthful— you’d not seen him in four weeks, you missed him. But you had to be careful what you thought, he could tell if you thought about him too much.

“How I was doin’? I’m an inter-dimensional dream demon, babe. I don’t “do”.” His smugness radiates, and you roll your eyes at him.

“You don’t “do”? I thought you “did” feel a little something when you saw how much I’ve been hanging out with Sam.”

That changes his mood. His hundred watt smile short-fuses and he turns to the mirror again, avoiding you.

“Pff, what? What’s a “Sam”?” He puts quotations around their name, his amber eye rolling. “I don’t pay attention to your life, kid. I’ve got bigger dimensions to demolish, fish to fry, buildings to burn, whatever the thing is.”

“The second one’s most common,” you say, watching him fiddle with his tie. “But you’re dodging the question.”

“Well, now I’m gonna give you the answer!” Bill flips around and leans down to your level, his eyes leering down at you. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, but you do.” Your fingertips dance around his coat lapels. “I feel whatever you feel. I saw what you were doing before I summoned you, Bill, and I know you were thinking about what happened last time I saw you.”

Bill falters. Your grin widens.

“Pssht. I was wondering if you were dead yet, that’s all,” he tries, but his nervousness pulses through you, his heartbeat drumming against your hands.

“You’d have felt it if I died,” you counter.

“And I would’ve been glad!”

“Glad I wouldn’t get to spend more time with Sam?”

His long fingers curl into fists. You know he feels your gloating, but it’s replaced with his more dominant confidence.

“You don’t even like that creep,” he says, pushing you back against the wall, your faces inches apart. “They’re too much, too close. But when I’m here? Hah! You’ve got no problems with me bein’ right here, do you? I know you don’t. I can feel it.”

Your breathing becomes more raggedy. His angular features are within close enough proximity that you could easily close the distance between the two of you, but you don’t dare.

“Why didn’t you summon me earlier? You know I could’ve dealt with him like I did with those other disposables. You know what you’ve got on your side, somethin’ they could never even dream of. Why waste your useless life with him when you’ve got—“

There’s your signal. Your wandering hands get to the back of his neck and push him forward towards you, your lips pressing to his to shut him up. He disconnects within seconds, looking scandalized.

“What the— what was that?”

“Bill, have you never been kissed before?” The answer is obviously no, but he tries to think of an excuse all the same.

“I, uh— I’m thousands of years older than you, of course I’ve— what was the word?”

You give him another demonstration; he clumsily tries to reciprocate. Pulling away again, he remembers the word and mutters it under his breath, squinting at your mouth.

“Weird. Why’d you do that?”

“To get you to be quiet,” you quip, and he huffs, the puff of air he exhales making his blonde hair fly into his eyes. Brushing it out of his face comes with him grabbing your wrist, placing your palm against his cheek. His brows arch.

“Are you going to do it again?”

“Do you want me to?”

Your question is met with an unsure curiosity that you both feel. His face is warm under your touch, and you coax him closer until your foreheads are pressed together.

“Well, yeah.”

It’s your turn to raise a brow, the corners of your lips tugging up at him. He doesn’t meet your gaze except for fleeting glances, but you lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“You’re going to need lessons on kissing if you’re keeping this— what did you call it?— “meatsack” for a while.”

He smirks, his arrogance transferring to you as you return his wide grin. “I plan on it, toots.”

You laugh as you kiss him again, and he puts both hands against the wall behind your head, learning slowly but surely.

Sam could suck it anyways.


	3. anything for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bill finds some weird white beverage in your fridge and decides to chug it.  
> the milk expired a week ago.  
> discuss.
> 
> (word of warning: this fic is from 2015 and unedited!)

Something was poking your hip in your sleep, and even when you turn over, you can’t escape it. It is, quite literally, a thorn in your side, and when you finally wake up fully and flip around to see what the culprit is, you fall out of bed with the sudden surprise.

“Why do you humans sleep so much? You can sleep when you’re dead in seventy nine years!”

“Hello to you too, Bill,” you yawn, sitting up and stretching your arms over your head. Bill squints at you in the low light, copying your every move. “Did I summon you by accident?”

“Nah, I wanted to ask ya somethin’ about this whole human thing,” he says, rolling over on your bed until he lands with a thud on his stomach on the floor. “I drank this weird white thing downstairs, and it tasted like a dead skunk, which, usually, I’m okay with! That’s fine and all, but now my, like…”

He gestures to his stomach and turns onto his side, winding his long arms around his midsection.

“Now it hurts. And not in the fun way.”

It takes you a moment to get what the “fun way” was, and Bill smirks at your red cheeks, knowing he could feel your embarrassment through your empathy link.

“Bill, was the liquid in a big plastic container?”

“Yeah! It had a picture of one of those black and white quadrupedal things on it, the cows?”

“You drank the expired milk in my fridge, didn’t you.”

“Milk?”

You sigh and stand up, offering him a hand to get up with, and you tug him downstairs to the kitchen, lighting the room with the dim glow of the fridge. Sure enough, the carton was empty— and put back in the fridge, of course— and you show him the date printed on the plastic.

“I’ve been meaning to buy more milk, but I’ve not had the time. This milk expired a week ago, and you drank, what, half the carton? That’s what was left last time I checked…"

His fingers drum against your hand– you’d never let go of him, and you untangle the two of you quickly.

“Alright, alright. So milk can die. That’s… Kooky.”

You never thought you’d ever hear Bill Cipher say “kooky”, but he did.

“So what do I do about this?” He pokes his stomach and winces dramatically. “Make it stop. Now.”

“Not with that attitude I won’t,” you mutter; Bill grabs you by the wrist and you’re suddenly an inch away from him, and his face is less than friendly. Almost… Defeated.

By a stomachache.

“Please.”

A brow raises, but you nod and go to your medicine cabinet. Bill’s eye widens at the sudden array of bottles, and he grabs one at random, squinting at the small print.

“What’s a cramps?”

Yikes– you snatch those from his long fingers and replace it, finding the bottle for regular aches on another shelf.

“Here, take two of these.” You uncap it and shake out two small, white pills, taking Bill’s hand and placing them in his palm. “Don’t bite them, you have to just swallow them, okay?”

Bill stares at his hand, the tablets dazzlingly white against his dark skin. “Uh, okay. Just swallow ‘em whole?”

Screwing the top back onto the bottle, you nod at him, and he places both pills on his tongue before shutting his mouth.

“Just get some spit in your mouth by moving your tongue around,” you explain, demonstrating with your own. “Then swallow them.”

Miraculously, Bill does that, and he makes a “pop” with his lips. A moment passes.

“It still hurts.”

You sigh, pushing your hair from your face. “It doesn’t work right away, you have to wait a bit.”

“Seriously?! I’m out of commission from this nonsense? Humans are so patient in their tiny lives,” Bill huffs, and you roll your eyes at him.

“At least we know when milk expires,” you retort, and his eye turns to his shiny black shoes. Gotcha.

He vaults up onto the counter, swings his legs about, then points to your fridge. “What’s with all the letters?”

He’s pointing at the alphabet magnets stuck to the door.

“Oh, they’re for sticking stuff on the door I need to remember,” you reply, pointing at an index card underneath the letter “E”. “That’s my dentist appointment next week, see?”

“Weird.” He jumps up and goes to the door, rearranging the letters until he’s made a large triangle out of them on the door, complete with the “I” as his eye.

“You self-centered asshole.” You laugh at the Bill at your side, looking at the Bill on the fridge. “Does this mean you can see into my kitchen whenever you want, now?”

“I’m always watching! Now I can see you make your weird food stuff and eat more tiny circles!”

You laugh and Bill doesn’t understand the joke– he’s being serious.

“Well, was that all you wanted?”

Bill looks down at you, his brows furrowed.

“Yup, that’s it! I’ll be back, though, don’t you forget it– and I’ll be watchin’ you through your food box!”

He snaps his fingers and disappears into a puff of yellow fog. Shaking your head, you remind yourself to not come into the kitchen at 3am to make cereal in your underwear anymore.

Or, mind you, to do that more often.


	4. whipped cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bill decides to give you a hand with a certain problem. and another hand. and another hand. and another hand. and another hand. and another hand.
> 
> (word of warning: this fic is from 2015 and unedited!)
> 
> (DFAB coded smut, brief mention of choking)

You’re glad your water bottle is plastic– you drop it as soon as you walk through the door of your house. It clatters to the floor with a loud clatter against the tile, and the subject of your shock flips around with his signature toothy grin aimed your way.

“Ey, long time no see! How’ve ya been? –No time for that, whaddya think of the new look?”

“You have six arms.”

[[MORE]]  
Bill quirks a brow at you as if the announcement is the most natural thing in the world. Well yeah, because he has six arms, compared to the lowly two he had last time you (ahem) saw him. Six arms with a hand topping each, and each one of his thirty fingers stretches out, the sudden cracking of bones playing like a xylophone.

“I sure do. Ain’t it somethin’?” Bill twirls around, throwing the TV remote in the air with his second hand and catching it in his fifth. “I got big business in a whole other dimension t’yours, kid. Big business! Got this new getup to speed things along, y’know? Survival of the fittest and whatever you humans say for quantifying who lives longest! I can’t believe you don’t get to evolve into this form for another six thousand years!”

“Bill, you’re so loud. You’re so loud.” You forego absolutely everything he says and push past him toward your medicine cabinet, grabbing two headache pills and popping them back with a swig from your water bottle. Bill looks startled that you’re not on your knees basking in his glory, and he disappears from behind you to stand approximately three inches from your nose, his one yellow eye examining your two.

“Hey! I’ve not even explained my entire plan yet!”

“Jesus, Bill, how did you—?”

“New magic with the whole physical form and taking over another dimension thing. I can be anywhere—“

He splits in two and corners you against the counter, both clones smirking at you.

“—And everywhere!”

Your brow furrows and you press two fingers to your temple. Bill puts himself back together and frowns at you, his bottom pair of hands on his hips, the middle pair against the edge of the cabinet.

“What’s the matter with you? Your brain melting outta your ears?”

“I’ve been busy at work, Bill,” you mutter, leaning against the cabinet with your water bottle in hand.

Bill empathizes (someone confusedly) with your frustration– though forcibly, by your link. Your co-worker spilled his coffee on your desk and, subsequently, your lap, and since then, your day got progressively worse. His frown softens from upset to sympathetic, and you feel his bewilderment on the sudden new feeling. 

“That, uh. That sucks.”

He’s obviously got no idea how to comfort someone, especially with six arms. One of his many hands tentatively pats your shoulder, and you smile at him encouragingly. He’ll get the hang of it.

“I survived. That’s what matters.” You look him up and down, stubbornly staring at his extra sets of limbs. “So, uh… What are these for again?“

Bill brightens up and the middle pair of arms move from the cabinet to your hips, and you jolt when the second pair take each of your hands in theirs. Weird, but… interesting.

“Takin’ over the world! It’s what I do best, after all! I’m gonna rule all of these dimensions, after bein’ stuck in mine for so long. And, actually, as much as it pains me t’say it…”

Another hand goes to the underside of your chin, tilting your head up. He’s not looking at you, but you can feel his nerves jittering from both your empathy link and his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s all… ‘cause of you. And me, but. But if you didn’t summoned me and took my deal to get me a body, I wouldn’t be takin’ over the universe. Or have six arms, and this gig’s great! But, yeah. So.”

You blink at him once, twice. Was he… Thanking you, in his own weird way?

“But it’s also ‘cause I’m powerful and great and able to do anything I want. Perks of bein’ a demon, after all.”

Yeah, there it is.

“Shut up.” Before he has a chance to retort you grab him by the bow-tie, pulling him towards you and kissing him. His muffled “what” makes you hum in amusement but he soon gets the idea, the hands holding yours letting go and winding around your neck, your bodies flush against each other.

You soon find the benefits of his multiple arms: it feels like he’s touching you everywhere at once, two hands on your hips, another in your hair, while one’s on your back with fingertips slipping beneath your shirt, dancing along your spine. Bill’s teeth take your bottom lip and tug, and when he lets go and pulls away, his eye is heavy-lidded, the one pupil blown out.

“How’s your head?”

“Better.”

He kisses you again, more forcefully, and when your hands go to touch him he grabs them both in one of his pairs and holds them at your sides. The top of his head nudges yours to the side and he kisses and sucks at your neck, paying no mind to your stutters.

“Bill—!”

He looks back up at you, smirking, breathing heavily. “Yeah?”

You roll your eyes, trying to cool your hot face. Damn him. “I have work tomorrow, you know. I have to keep a professiona—Ah—“

Bill doesn’t care, obviously; the feeling of two new bruises on your neck proves that.

“You were sayin’, kid?”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, grabbing one of his many hands and pulling him upstairs, ignoring his satisfied snickers over your shoulder. The door slams behind him and he shoves your back against it within seconds, his mouth insistent on yours. He’s gotten better since his last attempt, surprisingly. A pair of hands trap your wrists against the door, another getting busy with your uniform, fiddling with buttons almost clumsily. Impressive— did you really get this egotistical dream demon flustered?

You let your guard down for one second and he’s undone your shirt, pushing it off you to pool at your feet. Well, maybe not that flustered.

“Working fast— Got somewhere to be?”

Your question is met by a sharp bite on your collarbone.

“Be quiet, or I’ll make you shut up.”

The idea sends a shiver through you, and Bill catches your reaction with an upward quirk of his lips. The bottom-most pair of hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, almost curiously squeezing your ass and making you squeal. He lifts a brow at the noise and does it again, but kisses you to muffle it, his nails dragging against your back; his attentions fall back to your neck, leaving a trail of harsh bite marks on your skin from below your jaw to the curve of your chest. You go to say his name again but a hand between your legs makes you gasp, his long fingers rubbing the smallest relief out of you with the friction of his gloves against your jeans.

“I gotta tell ya, it’s been weird not seein’ you around for so long,” he mutters in your ear, nipping at the shell. “I could almost say I missed ya.”

One of his hands traces up your sternum to your neck, closing around it and tightening. Shit, he’s got some new ideas— and you’re not complaining, the oddly pleasurable feeling of being lost for air making you claw at his jacket, your mouth open and gasping.

“I think I just missed that look on your face, but who knows? Empathy links are weird.”

His hand flexes around your pulse and his one yellow eye seems to glow brighter. You start to feel the need for oxygen and grope for some sort of handhold, finding one in his tie, which you close your fist around, but your wrist is taken by another hand and pinned to the wall.

“Ah, no. Geez, I’m gonna run outta hands if you keep grabbin’ at me like this!”

The pair that held your wrists let go, but with a snap of his fingers, you’re frozen in place, like he’d pressed pause on your body from the shoulders down. He releases his hold on your neck and you suck in a deep breath, panting from the rush of air to your lungs.

“You didn’t see that comin’, huh? New magic in these new arms.”

He steps forward, gathering your hair into his hand and sharply tugging your head up to meet his eye.

“And, being the generous guy I am, I’m gonna show ya what I can do with ‘em.”

Bill snaps his fingers again and you hear a zipper clicking and the rush of fabric hitting the floor— your legs feel very cold all of a sudden. Asshole. You don’t meet his wide smirk of approval when he presses against you, two of his hands running along your sides and down your spine, another’s thumb picking at the hem of your underwear at your hip.

“Hm.”

You arch a brow at him and he glances at you, his yellow iris a dark amber, and one of his many hands slips between your legs, carefully pushing your underwear to the side. Fingers almost lazily dip beneath the hem and you inhale sharply, gnawing at your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying out. He’d learned a few things in his long absence, it would seem– you doubt he would’ve known where to start if you’d tried this a few months ago, when he first got his physical form.

Regardless, you’re not complaining.

His magic lets up and you reach up to the back of his head, crashing your lips together and pulling his body against yours. You grind your hips on his and you’re greeted with his hardness rubbing on the inside of your thigh and a gasp that travels from his throat into yours.

“F-Fuck, Bill–”

Two of his hands grab yours and twirl you around, pushing you down onto your bed, and he clambers on top of you, holding your legs apart and your hands to the mattress. There’s a sharp tug on your waistband and your underwear are struggled off your hips, tossed over his shoulder, and while he’s distracted you go to sit up, but he flicks his wrist and your head hits the pillow, your body stiff under his magic.

“Hey. Y’mind if I try somethin’?”

He’s almost sheepish above you, golden eye focused on a spot above your head. You nod quizzically, your brows scrunched down, and he regains his character almost instantly, smirking before he ducks between your legs— your face floods a bright red he thankfully doesn’t comment on. He doesn’t give much warning before dragging his tongue up and down, eliciting a gasp you couldn’t hold back as you squirm around him, his laughter quiet while two of his hands grab your ankles, keeping your legs spread.

“Geez. If I’d’ve known you’d be makin’ noises like that from this I woulda done this ages ago.”

You go to hide your face in your hands but Bill stops your arms mid-movement, your hands at either side of your head, palms up. He applies more pressure and you let out a whine, closing your eyes and letting your head fall to the side. Thank god nobody was home– if anyone had heard you like this you’d be beside yourself with mortification.

Right now you’re beside yourself with something else. Bill pauses before he starts sucking on you and you can feel his shit-eating grin when you squeal. He pulls away after a while, leaving you a panting mess, but before you get a chance to recover his attention moves to the inside of your thigh, his sharp teeth leaving dark bruises on your skin. His magic lets up on your hands, allowing you to knot your fingers into his hair.

“Bill–!!”

“Mmm?” He stops, looking up at you, hair tousled and a stark contrast against the dark of his skin. Startlingly white teeth gleam and his tongue slips over them, his pointed molars caught on his bottom lip.

“I was…. I need…”

He crawls over you and your faces are inches apart, and you suddenly feel very exposed beneath him. He hadn’t even loosened his bow tie.

“You’re gonna haveta speak up, kid, I can’t hear you right.”

You reach around to the back of his head and push him down against your lips, tugging his hair. He gets the message, thankfully, and you hear two of his sets of hands working on unbuttoning and unzipping his shirt and pants. He abandons his bow tie, tossing it to a corner of your room for him to find later, and the rest of his clothes follow suit.

“You still don’t wear underwear?” Your question follows your stubborn stare between his legs, and Bill laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah. Too constricting.” He looks down, then back up at you.

“So how do I do this?”

You burst into giggles, covering your mouth with one hand as he floods crimson. So much for mister confident.

“Here, just… Hold it, and…”

You awkwardly help him adjust himself above you until he starts to slide into you, slowly, once you reminded him not to go full-throttle. Yikes. Once you nod up at him he pulls out a little, then moves back, his eye widening upon your yelp of pleasure.

“Ah, so that’s how this business goes down.”

You’re about to reply before he thrusts back into you and your sentence falls from your mouth, replaced by a groan that surprises both you and him. That sets the pace from there, and you shakily reach up to kiss him again, feeling a pair of his hands grab yours and thread your fingers together. The warmth in the pit of your stomach spikes, you’re so close, you just needed something that made you–

“Mine.”

Bill’s guttural snarl of the word against your mouth follows his grip on your hands tightening and you’re gone, your back arching off the bed, your head thrown back against the pillow. He comes soon after you in an almost questioning groan and he flops at your side, breathing heavily.

“Weird. Why’s it all wet?”

He pokes at himself and you laugh, somewhat out of breath.

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WANT IT WITH WHIPPED CREAM ON IT BABY GIMME GIMME GIMME YOUR LOVE
> 
> the four songs for each chapter:  
> love me dead - ludo  
> mr. brightside - the killers  
> anything for you - ludo  
> whipped cream - ludo
> 
> thanks for indulging my bill-fucker past


End file.
